


For Sentimental Reasons

by cassiewrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 40s lingo, Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Clubbing, Diners, First Love, M/M, bucky and natasha speak russian and laugh at everyone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiewrites/pseuds/cassiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “So, sugar, are you rationed?” </i>
</p><p>-</p><p>Bucky Barnes works at Lucky Leo’s, a 40’s-themed diner in Brooklyn, and he hasn’t seen Steve Rogers for nine years. When they meet again, Bucky barely recognizes the guy who used to be his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For Sentimental Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a really great Nat King Cole song you should listen to :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4oWbzT_oAJ0

 

 

_I love you for sentimental reasons_

_I hope you do believe me_

_I'll give you my heart_

 

_I love you and you alone were meant for me_

_Please give your loving heart to me_

_And say we'll never part_

 

-

 

New York City in the summer; hot, crowded, full of tourists.

Sure, there are some people who think New York is filthy and dangerous, but they didn’t grow up here. If you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere.

Bucky Barnes has lived in Brooklyn since the day he was born, and he’s pretty damn sure that’s where he’ll die, too. Growing up in Brooklyn gives a kid some character, and a few black eyes, too. Bucky learned how to stand up for himself and what he believes in, but so did all the other kids on his block, and sometimes they had differences in opinion.

All Bucky’s ever wanted to do was make someone proud. His parents, his country, himself--anyone. With all the trouble he’s gotten himself into, though, he’s certainly not anyone’s pride and joy.

He hasn’t had an easy life, to say the least. Sometimes he needs to escape.

That’s why Lucky Leo’s is such a godsend.

For Bucky, Lucky Leo’s Diner is more of a home than a home _away_ from home. Lucky Leo himself always holds a position open for him to work during the summer, and Bucky always take him up on the offer. From June to September, that’s where he spends all his time. He opens, he closes, he works too many shifts, so many that Leo makes him take a couple days off every now and then. (“Go have fun, Buck. Meet a nice broad.” “I have fun here, Leo, and those dames at table five seem pretty sweet on me, don’t ya think?” “They’re at least seventy!” “They sure do tip well, though.”)

The semester is finally over, and by some miracle, Bucky passed all his finals. He only has one more year of college, now, and still no idea what he’s going to do afterward.

He’s double majoring in Russian Studies and Business Administration, just to cover some of his bases, and mostly because those are the two subjects he finds most interesting. After the death of his parents, Bucky went to live with his grandparents, who immigrated from Russia in the fifties. They still speak broken English, but Bucky has become pretty fluent in Russian, and tries to teach them new American phrases every once in a while. (“No, _babulya,_ a selfie isn’t a drug.”)

Bucky wakes up the next morning, the first day of summer, and jumps into the shower.

He dries off and runs some pomade through his hair, slicking it back with a comb ever so carefully. It took him weeks to learn how to get that classic bump in the front, flat on the sides look. He had to watch a lot of Mad Men.

He shifts around some hangers in his closet until he gets to the back and finds that starched, white shirt he’s so fond of. He slips it on and buttons it up to his neck. He straightens the collar down and rolls up the cuffs on the short sleeves. He set out a pair of black slacks and a black belt the night before, but spends ten minutes trying to find a pair of matching socks without holes in them. He looks in the mirror before he leaves, straightening his black clip-on bow tie and smoothing down his hair one last time.

Walking into Lucky Leo’s is like stepping right out of a time machine and into the 1940’s. Leo and his wife, Carina, are both second generation Italian-Americans and have lived in Brooklyn all their lives. They grew up in the forties, so they do everything they can to make the place historically accurate. All the guys wear white button-ups with black slacks, an apron and a white cap. The girls wear aprons tied around their waists, and white dresses with candy striping on the collar and sleeve cuffs. Everyone has to “speak forties” around the customers. When Bucky was first hired, he was given a pamphlet with slang words and phrases from the forties that he had to learn. At first it was kind of embarrassing to say stuff like “keen” and “hot dog!”, but now it’s like a second language to him. He actually likes coming into work and saying, “Hi-di-ho, Leo!”

Leo opened the diner with his wife in the eighties, and it’s been a hit ever since. Everyone loves it there; families, couples on their first date, vintage-obsessed hipster kids, and especially people who actually lived through the forties. Bucky’s favorite customers are the little old ladies who get all dolled up and give him big tips because he’s a “dreamboat.”

Carina greets Bucky by giving him a big kiss on the cheek. “It’s been so long, James!”

“I came by last week, Carina,” Bucky laughs.

She waves at him dismissively. “It’s always good to see you, sweetie.”

“You too, doll,” Bucky winks, and she giggles a little.

“Hiya, Buck!” says Peggy, a waitress who started working there a couple years ago. Everyone thinks she’s a sweet girl from London, but she’s got some spitfire in her. She almost broke the wrist of a guy who kept pinching her ass and calling her “babydoll.” Leo played it off like she would surely be punished, just to keep away a lawsuit, but they both laughed about it in his office later. Leo tries not to show favor, but he’s always been partial to Bucky and Peggy.

Leo’s a great guy, and he’s been good to Bucky all these years. When Bucky was fourteen and he walked into Lucky Leo’s for the first time, dripping wet from the pouring rain, Leo offered him a cup of soup and gave him something dry to wear, a uniform he found in the back.

“Fits you to a tee, kid,” Leo had said.

“How much do I owe you?” Bucky said, still shivering slightly and looking miserable.

Leo shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“C’mon, I gotta pay you back somehow,” Bucky insisted stubbornly. The last thing he wanted was someone taking pity on him.

Leo could tell Bucky was unshakeable, so he shrugged and said, “Fine, how ‘bout you bus a few tables for me, and we’ll call it even. Deal?”

Bucky took him up on that deal, and a few tables one night turned into a few hours every day after school, and then the whole summer, and all the summers after that. Bucky’s had every job in the place other than owner; busboy, dishwasher, host, waiter, line cook, and now Leo’s offered him seasonal manager. Bucky figures that just means that he has to do a little bit of every job and train all the new employees.

One day, after a long shift, Leo knew Bucky’s grandmother was sick and he was struggling to help, so he handed Bucky a check and called it an early Christmas present, in August. Bucky had thanked him immensely, and asked, “Why are you so good to me, Leo?”

“You’re a good kid, Buck,” Leo said. “You remind me of my son.”

Bucky knew that Leo’s son was in the military, and had died in combat years ago. Bucky hugged him and thanked him again. Before he left, he turned to Leo and said, “You know, I don’t really remember my dad, but I hope he was as good a man as you.”

As Peggy struts off with a plate of eggs and bacon, Leo comes over and gives Bucky a big hug.

“How’s it goin’, bub?” Leo says, slapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Can’t complain, boss man,” Bucky replies with a grin.

Leo leans against one of the booths. “We’re gonna have a new guy coming in soon, I’ll let you show him the ropes.”

“What’s his name?”

Leo thinks for a moment. “Eh, Roger something.”

Bucky nods. “Sounds swell.”

Leo goes back to his office while Carina chats with some of the regulars. Bucky looks around at the familiar diner, thinking of all the memories he’s made here.

His first kiss was at the corner booth with Stacy Kepler when they were fourteen. She was blonde and smelled like cotton candy, and she’d just gotten her braces off so she smiled every moment she could. Bucky tried to be cool about it, but their noses bumped together and he almost knocked over the milkshake they were sharing. She was nice, but she broke up with Bucky after dating for a few weeks because Glenn Donovan asked her out and he was a junior with a car.

When he graduated high school, Bucky came here with his grandparents. They sat at the counter and ordered root beer floats and chatted with Leo and Carina. Some of the waitresses brought out a cake that said “Happy Graduation Bucky!” in curlycue font. That day was one of the happiest he’s had in a while.

This is where he opened his college acceptance letters, took his dates, and sprained his ankle slipping on a puddle of spilled Coke. This is where he found a family. This is home.

 _Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy_ plays from the jukebox, a song he’s a heard a thousand times and can’t help but hum along to. A busboy is wiping down the chrome countertop on the bar, a little kid is spinning around on a swiveling, cushioned bar stool. A man sits at the counter sipping black coffee and tearing off bits of muffin to dip in the coffee.

“So, you’re the head honcho around here now?” Peggy inquires with a smirk.

“If you say so, dolly,” Bucky says teasingly. “So, what’s buzzin’, cousin?”

“Not much, the plane ride over here is always pretty lousy, but only two more years of school to go,” she says while writing the specials of the day on a chalkboard. She goes to university in London, studying international business, but her parents are divorced, so she spends her summers with her mother in New York. Her dad is an English diplomat of some sort, and her mom is a fashion designer, so she obviously has money, but you wouldn’t know it by how she acts. Bucky doesn’t really know why she wastes her time here if she doesn’t need the money, but he figures it’s probably the same reason he always comes back. It’s home.

“They’re letting dames go to college now? What a world we live in,” Bucky jokes.

“Okay, okay, wise guy,” Peggy says, rolling her eyes.

Bucky hears the door chime behind him, and when he turns around, it’s like everything is moving in slow motion.

Now, Bucky doesn’t usually describe guys as gorgeous, but there’s no denying that the guy that walks in the door is jaw-dropping, drop dead gorgeous. He’s wearing a white t-shirt that looks at least two sizes too small, his muscles bulging through the thin fabric. His khakis are just as tight, unfortunately, tight enough to make Bucky’s pants feel a little tight, too. Bucky finally looks at his face when he runs his strong, yet soft-looking hands through his thick, blonde hair. This has to be the prettiest, brawniest guy Bucky has ever seen. He doesn’t know if he wants to gaze into Hot Blond’s liquid blue eyes or challenge him to an arm-wrestling match.

Then Hot Blond is looking directly at him, and Bucky actually glances behind him to make sure. Now he’s smiling and walking toward Bucky and the slow motion effect is wearing off too fast.

“Bucky?” Hot Blond says, and Bucky can’t believe it.

“Do I-” Bucky swallows, “Do I know you?”

“Bucky Barnes? It’s me, Steve! Steve Rogers!” Steve smiles even brighter.

And all Bucky can say is, “Holy shit.”

He feels a slap at the back of his head and Carina says, “Language!”

“Sorry, Carina,” Bucky mutters, not looking away from Steve. He squints, trying to figure out how this can be the same Steve Rogers that he once knew.

Bucky doesn’t even realize that Peggy is staring at Steve, too, and they’re both practically drooling. “You two...know each other?” Peggy asks.

“We went to middle school together. That was what, nearly ten years ago? This is crazy!” Steve says, still smiling and crossing his arms, making his biceps bulge even more.

Crazy. That’s one way to describe it.

 

-

 

“Don’t go, Steve,” Bucky says, looking down. He can’t look at Steve, he just can’t. He knows if he looks in those big blue puppy dog eyes he’ll start crying and have to shoo Steve away like Lassie.

“Buck,” Steve says softly. He puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky shrugs it off. “It’s not my choice.”

Bucky finally looks at Steve and both of their eyes are watering and it’s so cold outside, Bucky thinks that even if he does cry, the tears would just freeze on his cheeks.

“You could stay with me,” Bucky suggests, though it sounds more like a plea.

Steve just looks at him for a moment. Who would’ve thought that skinny Steve Rogers, frail and asthmatic as he is, would be the strong one right now.

“You know I can’t do that. My grandparents are waiting for me. My parents are gone, Bucky, I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he says, voice wavering.

“But we’re...we’re Steve and Bucky, you know? We’re a team,” Bucky says, frustrated. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re my only friend. You think this is easy for me? Geez, this is...” Steve trails off. He’s shivering slightly, but it seems like he’s always shivering, anyway. He’s wearing two coats and a thick beanie and a scarf and all the layers his mom always made him wear. Now she’s gone, and Steve is twelve years old and he feels like his heart is gonna shrivel up in his chest. But he has to be strong. Strong for his mom, his dad, his grandparents, but mostly, himself.

He’s standing in Bucky’s front yard and telling the best friend he’s ever had that he has to move to Virginia with his grandparents and they might never see each other again.

“We can still talk on the phone, you know? Send letters, maybe?” Steve says, voice cracking. “This doesn’t have to be the end.”

Bucky sniffs his nose and crosses his arms, putting on a stoic facade.

Steve huffs a breath. “Don’t do that. I know you, I know what you do. You don’t have to act like a tough guy all the time.”

“I’m not...” Bucky starts, then sighs and looks down at his shoes for a moment. It’s snowing now and snowflakes are falling on Steve’s eyelashes and Bucky knows he’s gonna get the flu or something, kid’s got the immune system of a, well, Bucky doesn’t know anything that gets sick more often than Steve Rogers.

A car pulls up to the curb, inside is Steve’s grandmother. The car is packed full of boxes, but it doesn’t seem like enough. That’s supposed to be Steve’s whole life and it only fills up a station wagon.

“Take care of yourself,” Bucky says in a gravelly voice.

“Same to you,” Steve makes an effort to smile. He starts to walk away, but Bucky pulls him by the sleeve into a tight hug.

When they finally break apart, Steve says, “I meant what I said. This isn’t the end.”

“I’m with you, buddy,” Bucky says, cracking a smile.

“Til the end of the line, pal.” They laugh a little, painfully, and Steve starts walking toward the station wagon.

Bucky turns away and goes into his house, unable to watch Steve get into that car and drive away and probably never come back. When he gets inside, he shuts the door and tries not to cry, but he hears the car outside roar to life and the tires screech on the pavement, and suddenly he can’t stop crying.

The next morning he wakes up in his bed, unsure of how he got there, and remembers that his best friend is gone, and falls back to sleep.

 

-

 

“I can’t believe this,” Bucky says, and he literally can’t. He can’t believe he’s sitting at a booth across from Steve Rogers who has magically transformed into the hottest guy Bucky has ever seen, like some sort of perfectly-toned, khaki-clad Sailor Moon. “I barely even recognize you. What the hell happened, man?” Bucky half-laughs.

Steve smiles, and that’s pretty much the only reason Bucky’s sure this is the Steve he knew. He has that bashful, optimistic smirk he’s always had. “Oh, you know, growth spurt, asthma medicine, diet and exercise, steroids. I’m kidding about the steroids, but I played football in high school, and that worked out pretty well for me.”

“Are you on a college team?” Bucky asks.

Steve shakes his head, a few strands of hair falling in his eyes. “Oh, no, I got offered a few scholarships, but that was never something I really wanted to pursue. I go to NYU, though. Art major.”

“I always told you you should be an artist,” Bucky smirks.

“Yeah, you did,” Steve says. God, he’s good at eye contact, and did he just lick his lips?

Something clicks in Bucky’s brain. “Wait...you go to NYU? How long have you been in New York?”

Steve opens his mouth to talk, then looks down at the table.

_Three years. Of course. He’s been less than thirty minutes away for three years and he never even called._

Bucky doesn’t want to feel a pang of hurt or disappointment, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the day Steve left, but he can’t help it.

“I really wanted to see you, Buck, I swear.” Steve says apologetically, “But I didn’t even know if you still lived here, and if you did, maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

“Of course I did, you mook,” Bucky says, slipping into some forties lingo.

“Well, you stopped calling after a while, so I figured...” Steve trails off.

 _Great, it’s my fault. It always is_ , Bucky thinks. “Yeah, sorry...”

Steve runs a hand through his golden hair. “It’s fine. I understand, it’s hard. And really, _I’m_ the one that’s sorry. I’ve been here for three years and I didn’t even try.”

Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “Hey, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

Leo comes over and pats a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Hey, Buck, I hope you’re not tellin’ the

new guy all sorts of lies about me,” he laughs.

Bucky glances at Steve, eyes wide, “ _You’re_ the new guy?”

“And I feel so welcome already,” Steve jokes.

Leo raises an eyebrow. “You two know each other?”

“We go way back,” Steve replies.

“You kids are like twenty, how far back can you go?” Leo laughs at his own joke, like he does most of the time.

“Well, uh,” Bucky says, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Welcome to the family, Steve.”

 

-

 

“So, seeing as how you look really, uh...strong, I was gonna start you off on unloading inventory in the back,” Bucky says, looking down at a clipboard with a list of his newfound managerial duties.

Steve, beaming as always, says, “Okay,” looks down at the pamphlet with the forties slang and continues hesitantly, “Hotshot.”

Bucky laughs a little. “You’ll get the hang of it. It’s easy-peasy, bub.”

Bucky takes Steve into the back with all the unopened boxes and shows him where the freezer and the fridge are. Half the ground chuck goes in the freezer, half in the fridge. Ice cream always in the freezer, onions in the pantry.

Steve starts opening the boxes and humming along with a song they can vaguely hear from the front. It sounds like a Billie Holiday song, but Bucky’s not sure which one.

“You recognize this song?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Steve says, hauling five pounds of ground chuck into the freezer like it’s nothing. “My mom always listened to old records, she loved Billie Holiday and Bing Crosby. I guess it kinda rubbed off on me. My mom would’ve loved this place.”

“Is that why you wanted to work here?” Bucky asks softly.

Steve nods and continues sorting through the boxes.

“I’ll see you later,” Bucky says, then pauses at the door, “It’s good to see you, Steve.”

Steve looks up at him with a smile. “You too, Bucky.”

 

-

 

Two weeks go by and Steve is getting the hang of Lucky Leo’s pretty fast. He’s just washing dishes and bussing a few tables right now, but he’s catching onto the forties lingo easily, and soon he’ll probably be able to start serving. Bucky sometimes catches him chatting up the little old ladies, and they look at him like he’s Prince Charming, and he very well might be.

Bucky thought this would be a summer like any other, spending his days at Lucky Leo’s without a care in the world, but Steve is kinda messing that up. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like having Steve around, because he really does, but Steve is slowly consuming all his thoughts. Steve in those goddamn khaki pants should be illegal, Bucky thinks, and he thinks about that a little too much. He thinks about the strong muscles on his back flexing, down to the dip of his lower back, and the curve of his perfectly-sculpted, godlike...uh, personality.

He probably spends a little too much time staring at Steve’s, uh, _back_.

It’s not like Bucky hasn’t thought about guys like this before. He’s made out with a few dudes in college, but it never led anywhere. He blames it on that “experimental college phase” bullshit that people use so they can still consider themselves straight. Not that Bucky has had better luck with the ladies, though. The extent of most of his relationships in the past few years have been casual hook-up.

And now, here’s Steve Rogers, a perfect human specimen, and Bucky can’t help thinking about that skinny little punk from Brooklyn. They’re the same guy, technically. They’re both caring and compassionate, strong-willed and a little sarcastic, but no doubt this new Steve would win all the fights he lost in middle school.

Steve and Bucky catch up during their breaks and after work, talking about college and family and friends, reminiscing about all the trouble they got in when they were kids.

“Remember that teacher, Mrs. Potts, who always gave us detention so we put a stink bomb in her desk?” Steve says through his laughter.

“She had to get a whole new desk!” Bucky wheezes. “God, we were awful.”

“Hell of a lot of fun, though, right?” Steve says, raising his eyebrows.

Bucky shakes his head with a smirk. “You bet. We were a pretty good team, weren’t we?”

Steve finishes wiping down the last table as Bucky empties the dustpan into the trash. “We still are,” Steve notes, throwing the towel over his shoulder. He’s wearing the real uniform now, apron and all. He keeps his hair moussed back most of the time, but a few locks fall over his forehead sometimes. Honestly, he looks like he just stepped out of the forties himself.

Peggy comes out of the back through the swinging door, still wearing her uniform, though they’ve been closed for half an hour.

“I can’t believe I forgot a change of clothes,” she says heatedly. “Honestly, I can’t wear this on the subway. I get enough catcalls here as it is.”

“Peg, I told you, you show me those guys, and I’ll give ‘em the ole one-two,” Bucky says, holding up his fists comically.

“And I’ll help,” Steve chimes in.

Peggy pushes her finger-waved curls behind her shoulders and says, “That’s sweet of you, boys, but I can handle myself just fine. It’s just been a long day.”

“Let me give you a ride home,” Steve insists, all charm and chivalry.

Peggy protests at first, but Steve keeps insisting. “As long as you don’t mind riding on the back of my Harley. It’s totally safe, I swear.”

Peggy thinks for a moment. “Well, I haven’t ridden a motorbike in a while...and how could I say no to such a gentleman?”

Steve gets his jacket and helmet from the back and hands the helmet to Peggy. He slides on the leather jacket, suddenly becoming a whole different kind of hot.

“Damn, Rogers, I always thought you were a Soc, but you’re lookin’ pretty Greaser right now,” Bucky comments, putting up the barstools. “I never imagined skinny little Steve with a motorcycle.”

Steve shrugs and zips up the jacket. He flashes a smile and says, “I’m not so skinny anymore. Besides, I like the freedom.”

Steve and Peggy say goodnight to Bucky and walk out to Steve’s Harley out front. Peggy sits behind Steve and wraps her arms around his waist.

Bucky imagines himself sitting there, feeling the engine roar to life beneath them. Pressing against Steve’s back, feeling the warmth radiating from him, grasping at his firm waist as they drive off into the night...

Bucky snaps out of, trying not to feel a pang of jealousy when he hears Peggy shriek with laughter as they ride away, out of sight. Maybe Steve drops Peggy off at her door, just to make sure she’s safe. Maybe she invites him inside for a nightcap, and Steve is too courteous and naive to refuse. Maybe he’s not so naive, maybe he wants to go inside with Peggy and knows exactly what that entails.

But that’s none of Bucky’s business. Why should he care?

Bucky shuts off all the lights and locks up before he leaves the diner. He walks home, letting the warm, June breeze wash away his worries.

His imagination betrays him that night, and he dreams of Steve and his motorcycle and all the things he tries not to think about when he’s awake.

 

-

 

It’s a day like any other. Breakfast was slow, but the lunch rush is starting, giving Bucky that buzz of anticipation he loves so much. He works better at a faster pace, he always has. He can’t stand sitting around all day, waiting, doing nothing. Especially now that Steve’s working the front sometimes, schmoozing with the customers in smooth forties lingo. He’s a natural, and honestly, it’s annoying how cute he is.

Bucky is watching Steve talk animatedly to a four year-old girl, who’s looking up at him like he’s Jesus, completely in awe, when he hears a familiar voice.

“Well, if it isn’t James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky dreads turning around, but he does anyway, seeing that fiery redhead that he loves so dearly. Love, in the sense that he kind of wants to kill her right now because he knows how much shit she’s gonna give him.

“My dear, sweet Natasha,” Bucky says, gritting his teeth.

She brought Clint with her too, of course; her partner is sarcastic, snarky crime. Bucky met Natasha a couple years ago, they’re both studying Russian in school. The Russian department isn’t very big, so he’s pretty familiar with all the students. He connected with Natasha, though, because they’re both third generation Russian-Americans. They even dated for a few months sophomore year, but neither of them have ever been good at commitment, and thought they’d be better as friends. She started hanging out with Clint last year, but they’ve never really had a defined relationship status. Bucky sees it as somewhere between a casual hookup and an open relationship.

Clint’s cool, kind of quiet, but what he does say is generally worth listening to. Clint doesn’t speak Russian, so Nat and Bucky like messing with him by having full Russian conversations right in front of him, occasionally glancing his way.

They’re both standing there, smirking devilishly at Bucky.

Bucky sighs. “How did you even find out about this place?”

“You don’t remember the end of the year party?” Natasha says. “You got hammered, and then started singing a Bing Crosby song and babbling about some diner in Brooklyn.”

“We thought we’d do a little investigating,” Clint says, looking pleased with himself.

Steve strolls over and asks Clint and Natasha, “Welcome to Lucky Leo’s, can I get you two sweethearts a table?”

Natasha smirks at Steve, then glances over to Bucky. “Actually, I think Mr. Barnes here was just about to escort us to a booth.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and says, “ _Soitently._ ”

Clint and Natasha chuckle in unison.

Bucky shows them to the corner booth, the one that’s furthest away from the kitchen, so if they embarrass him, maybe no one else will hear.

“What can I get you?” Bucky asks flatly.

“Is that the best you can do?” Nat says. He knows exactly what she wants to hear, and she always gets what she wants.

“Whadda you two ragtime fuddy-duddies in the mood for? Our egg creams sure are the cat’s meow!” Bucky says, exaggerating his Brooklyn accent and adding an inflection that makes him want to say “Nyeh, see!” at the end.

“This was totally worth the ferry ride over here,” Clint says, leaning his elbows on the tabletop.

“Surprise us,” Natasha says, giving Bucky that look like she laughing maniacally in her head.

“I’ll be sure to get the whole staff to spit in your food, doll,” Bucky sticks his tongue out at her, then turns on his heel and puts an order ticket on the counter that says “2 x Cheeseburger + extra mustard + extra cheese.” Cheese for the lactose-intolerant Natasha and mustard for Clint, because he gags at the sight of it.

“Friends of yours?” Steve says, nodding to Clint and Nat, who are undoubtedly snickering about the uniforms or the music playing like the trashy hipsters they are.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky replies, rolling his eyes.

He follows Steve over to the soda fountain, handing him a glass instinctively. Steve grabs some chocolate syrup and milk from the mini-fridge below the bar and spoons some into the glass. He grabs one of the soda guns from the bar and pours some seltzer into the glass, then mixes it together with a curly straw.

“Good old fashioned egg cream,” Steve says.

“Who’s that for?” Bucky asks.

Steve puts the glass in Bucky’s hand and says, “Your friends. On the house. For a special occasion, perhaps?” There’s a mischievous look in his eye that Bucky remembers so well.

Bucky nods and smirks at him as he walks back toward Clint and Natasha’s booth.

He sets it on the table between them and says sweetly, “On the house.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the drink.

“I didn’t spit in, I swear. I didn’t even make it,” Bucky says, hands up innocently.

Clint shrugs and takes a sip. “Oh man, Nat, you gotta try this,” he takes another sip, “Fuckin’ delicious.”

Natasha sighs, then shakes her head and takes a sip. She pauses for a moment, then says, “Okay, it’s not...terrible.”

“Can’t you just enjoy something unironically?” Bucky asks with a slight smile.

“I’m enjoying myself very much,” Natasha says, tugging at his apron. Clint downs most of the egg cream, leaving a little left for Natasha to not enjoy.

Bucky leans in and whispers, “Then I’m sure you’ll love this.” He turns toward the rest of the diner and yells, “Hey guys, we got a birthday over here!”

The waitstaff come over, chipper and cheery as ever, Steve right by Bucky’s side. They all lean in close to Clint and Natasha, and Clint makes it clear that Nat must be the birthday girl.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” they all start singing, “Happy birthday, dear-”

“Natasha!” Clint and Bucky sing obnoxiously. “Happy birthday to you!”

“...Thanks,” Natasha says with a forced smile. “I’m seventy-eight, can you believe it?”

“You don’t look a day over seventy, darling,” Clint says, wrapping an arm around her.

“Oh, shut up,” Natasha says affectionately. As the rest of the staff go back to their regularly scheduled programming, she looks back at Bucky and says, “I’ll get you for this.”

“And my little dog, too?” Bucky asks, feigning fear.

“Is this your little dog? Because he’s not so little,” she says, gesturing toward Steve, still standing near them.

Bucky glances toward Steve, and he does kinda have the puppy-dog eyes look. “Oh, this is Steve. Steve, this is Clint and Natasha.”

“I’m Clint,” Clint says, adding an exaggerated salute.

Natasha finishes the egg cream, then says, “I’m not Clint.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve says genuinely.

Clint licks the straw clean and says, “Hey, Bucky, didn’t you used to have a friend named Steve?”

“Uhh...” Bucky starts. _How do they even know about that?_ He doesn’t even have to look at Steve to know his expression.

“That would be me,” Steve says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Clint and Natasha share a look of curiosity, then, seeing Bucky’s expression, Natasha says, “You talk a lot when you’re drunk.”

“Remind me to never drink again,” Bucky groans.

Clint snorts. “Yeah, right.”

A bell dings and Bucky’s order is up, but Steve offers to go get it for them. After he walks away, Bucky gives them a look like, _what the hell_.

“That’s the Steve you were totally in love with!” Natasha says, almost a laugh.

“Shut up, we were twelve!” Bucky hisses.

“I mean, I can see why now...” Natasha says, craning her neck to get another look at Steve.

“I would object to that,” Clint begins, “but I have no argument, he’s basically a god.”

Bucky sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “Can you just--”

Steve comes back and places two plates on the table. “Two burgers for the lovely couple.”

“We’re not a--”

Steve cuts off Clint and says, “Whatever you say, ace.” One of the cooks calls Steve over, so he gives a little wave to Bucky and walks off.

“Have a swell lunch,” Bucky says to the birthday girl and her not-boyfriend, then goes into the back to avoid them until they’re done.

 

-

 

Okay, first thing’s first, Bucky is not nor has he ever been in love with Steve Rogers.

He may have a certain infatuation, but who wouldn’t? Honestly, look at him.

It’s not just his looks though, to be clear. It’s everything about him. He’s a genuinely good guy, and you don’t find many of those anymore.

Secondly, Bucky did not explicitly agree to go clubbing with Natasha and Clint tonight. But, like many experiences in his life, he’s here anyway because Natasha is kind of scary and he had nothing better to do.

Thirdly, Bucky really wishes that he hadn’t invited Steve to hang out with them tonight. Technically, it wasn’t even his idea.

After lunch with Clint, Natasha chatted with Steve for a moment and asked if he was free tonight, and Steve made the mistake of saying yes. Natasha mentioned that they--her, Clint, and Bucky--were going out tonight and it would be “fun” if he came along.

And Steve is great and nice and thought, sure, that sounds fun.

Now, Bucky is thinking, sure, that sounds like hell, and it is.

They carpool together, Natasha driving, to pick up Steve, and Steve says that he mentioned the club to Peggy, and that she knows a guy there and can totally get them in if she comes along. Bucky, unaware that they were going to a club, suddenly wishes he’d worn something nicer. He doesn’t look bad, but he’s just wearing a gray henley and jeans, nothing flashy.

“I might have a jacket in the back,” Clint mentions. Bucky leans over the seat and digs around, finding a dark purple vinyl jacket.

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks, Barton,” Bucky says, throwing the jacket back behind him.

“You look fine,” Natasha sighs.

Bucky leans forward to look at himself in the rearview mirror. “Really?”

“You look great,” Steve tells him. He gives Bucky a smile when Bucky looks back at him.

After they pick up Peggy, who’s wearing a maroon bandage dress and a short leather jacket, and they finally arrive at the club, Bucky wishes he could just stay in the car. From outside, the music is already thumping and lights flash wildly from the front door.

They’re a pretty gorgeous group, honestly. Peggy looks great, a lot different from her work uniform, and Natasha is wearing something short and red to match her hair, and now that they’re walking into the club, Bucky can really get a good look at how tight Steve’s jeans are.

Peggy says something to the bouncer and he lets them in before anyone else waiting in line outside.

“Friends in high places,” she says with a smirk.

When they get inside, Natasha stops for a moment to brief them. “Okay, Clint is designated driver this time, so everyone have fun and we’ll meet back up around two?”

That’s four hours from now. _What the fuck am I supposed to do for four hours?_ Bucky thinks. Looking at Steve, he knows what he’d _like_ to do, at least.

Natasha and Clint push themselves into the middle of the crowded dance floor. Peggy says “I love this song!” and pulls Steve in to dance with her. Bucky spots the bar and figures he’ll start drinking early.

“Rum and coke,” he orders at the bar. The bartender pours his drink with precision and slides it across the dark wood countertop. Bucky stirs it and refrains from downing the whole glass right now. The awful, robotic dance club music pumps into his ears and he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift away into the sea of techno bass drops.

“So much for that ‘never drinking again’ thing,” a deep, warm voice says a few minutes later.

Bucky opens his eyes and looks at Steve, sitting on the stool next to him. He looks shiny and his hair is kind of disheveled, but gorgeous nonetheless.

Bucky takes a sip of his drink and says, “I think I _need_ this tonight.”

Steve smiles and says, “Yeah, this isn’t really my scene either...”

“You looked pretty comfortable out there with Peggy,” Bucky says, sounding a little more hostile than he meant.

Steve shrugs. “Oh, you know. She’s...enthusiastic. I think she just needs to let off some steam every once in a while.”

They both look back at the dance floor and see Clint and Natasha making out in the middle of the floor and Peggy grinding against some hot stranger.

“So, you two aren’t...steamy?” Bucky says, immediately regretting it. This is the part where he chugs the rest of his drink.

Steve laughs and shakes his head lightly. “Nope, just friends.”

Bucky nods, trying to look casual. “Oh, okay. Good.”

“Good?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, I-” Bucky blurts.

“I’m just messing with you. Now, come on, you’re going to have fun tonight.” Steve pulls Bucky out of his seat and toward the dance floor.

“I’m not really a good dancer,” Bucky yells over the music.

Steve is pushing him forward a bit, hands firmly on his waist. He leans in close to Bucky’s ear and says, “No one in this club is a good dancer.”

He’s not wrong. Everyone is just kind of swaying and grinding, there’s not much room for real dancing anyway.

Steve stops pushing Bucky and lets his hands rest on Bucky’s hips.

“All you have to do is move your hips,” Steve says from behind Bucky. His hands guide Bucky’s hips into the movement, then he runs his hands over Bucky’s torso and up to his chest as he swings around to face him.

Bucky is breathing fast and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, almost in time with the beat of the music. Steve’s cheeks are pink, probably because it’s like ninety degrees in this mass of sweaty bodies, and he’s looking at Bucky with soft, blue eyes.

Bucky follows Steve’s simple movements, and they keep leaning closer and closer until their foreheads are almost touching. Every inch of skin is centimeters away, and it feels like there’s an electric current surging between their bodies, sending little shocks to Bucky’s nervous system.

He doesn’t feel nervous, though. He feels calm actually, like he’s in the eye of a storm. Around them is chaos, but Steve is looking at him like he’s the only person in the room, and damn, Bucky feels like he’s floating.

Bucky wraps his hands around Steve’s waist and pulls him closer, sucking in a breath when their hips touch. He’s hard, obviously, but what shocks him is that Steve’s hard, too, and rocking against him lightly. Bucky licks his lips and meets Steve’s unreadable gaze.

Bucky feels a tugging at his shirt and then Steve is pulling away, leaving Bucky aching for more friction.

“Guys, we have to leave!” Peggy is shouting.

“What?” Bucky yells.

“We can talk about it later, but we have to get in the car now!” Peggy looks really upset, so they push their way through the crowd and follow her out. Nat and Clint already have the car running, and they can’t hide the annoyance on their faces.

They pile into the backseat, and now Bucky’s kind of glad Peggy is sitting between him and Steve. He doesn’t think he could look at Steve right now without ruining his jeans.

“What the hell happened?” Natasha asks as Clint starts driving away.

“Um, you know how I said I know a guy at that club?” Peggy says quietly.

They all nod.

Peggy starts petting her hair a little bit. “Well, that guy is my ex-boyfriend and the owner there. He saw me dancing with some guy and got jealous and punched him in the face. That’s when I figured we should leave.”

“Peggy!” Bucky distresses.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I ruined your night,” Peggy laments.

“No, you didn’t. It’s fine. We’re just glad you’re okay, right?” Steve says, ever so charming.

Clint and Natasha groan a disappointed “sure.”

Peggy continues apologizing until they drop her off, leaving everyone left in the car wishing they were a lot more inebriated. Bucky leans forward and turns up the radio so he can avoid talking to Steve. This is the second time tonight he’s tried to block out his thoughts of Steve with music, at least this time it’s Blink-182.

They drop Steve off at his apartment in Tribeca, he thanks Clint and Natasha for the ride and gives a courteous “See you later,” gaze lingering slightly on Bucky.

The moment Steve’s out of the car and said his goodbyes, Natasha turns around and gives Bucky a wicked look.

“You two looked pretty chummy tonight,” she says with a smirk.

“What are you talking about? We were there for like five minutes,” Bucky replies quickly.

“More like thirty? Wow, you really do lose track of time when you’re in _love_ , don’t you?” She says “love” in an obnoxiously sing-songy way.

 _Was it really thirty minutes?_ Bucky checks his watch, and it would seem that way. “I’m not-” Bucky takes a deep breath. “I’m just not up for it tonight, Natasha.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say, James. Don’t think I’m dropping this, though, okay?”

Bucky curses at her in Russian and drifts off until they reach his apartment in Brooklyn Heights.

“Thanks for the fun night, guys,” Bucky says as he gets out of the car.

“Oh, it looked like you were having fun, alright,” Clint snickers out of the window.

Bucky flips him off as they drive away. He unlocks the door to his shabby little apartment, and for the first time in a while, realizes how lonely it is.

 

-

 

Steve and Bucky don’t talk about it.

They go to work, say their hellos, make small talk, and definitely don’t talk about it.

Leo is taking the day off, so Bucky spends most of his day in Leo’s office, checking inventory lists and such, but mostly avoiding Steve and Peggy and nursing his hangover. He may not have had much to drink at the club, but he found half a bottle of Captain Morgan’s at his apartment and decided to make up for what he would’ve missed.

Just when Bucky’s about to nod off at Leo’s desk, there’s a knock at the door and Peggy lets herself in.

Bucky lifts his head quickly, then sinks in his chair and says, “Oh, hey, Peggy.”

“Hi,” she says a little sheepishly. She closes the door behind her and sits in the chair across from Bucky. “Sorry again for last night.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky says. “Seriously.”

But, of course, she continues mentioning it. “I just feel bad for, you know, _interrupting_ last night.”

Bucky rubs at his eyes languidly. “Trust me, you weren’t interrupting anything.”

“Really?” Peggy says, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Because you two looked pretty...heavy.”

“It’s nothing!” He says defensively.

Peggy pauses for a moment. “So you and Steve aren’t-”

“No, we’re not,” Bucky interrupts immediately.

She’s still sitting there after a moment.

“Not to be rude, but do you need anything? We both have work to do, right?” He asks impatiently.

Peggy mutters a caustic “Sure thing, boss,” then leaves the office, shutting the door a little too loudly.

 

-

 

By the next week, Steve and Bucky still haven’t talked about it, so Bucky figures he should just forget about it.

They’re just friends. Sure, friends always grind against each other in clubs. Friends totally have to take cold showers most mornings to forget about the dreams they just had about each other. They’re completely platonic.

It’s the fourth of July already and they’ve decorated the diner with stars and stripes everywhere. They’re even wearing star-spangled aprons and bow ties.

Every milkshake gets complimentary sparkler, but they’re not technically allowed to light them inside, so there’s a group of kids outside all day practically scorching each other with hot sticks. What a fun holiday.

In all honesty, Bucky loves the fourth of the July. The barbeques, the fireworks, the patriotism. Everyone comes together to celebrate the beginning of something great, a sort-of Christmas in July.

It’s kind of a fourth of July tradition at Lucky Leo’s for the whole staff/family to go to Coney Island after work. Bucky’s been going for years; he’s got to have ridden the Thunderbolt at Luna Park at least a hundred times. This will be good, he needs to let off a little steam.

They close at ten and everyone changes out of their work clothes and meets at the boardwalk half an hour later.

It’s warm tonight, so Bucky’s wearing an American flag v-neck and American flag-printed shorts. Steve sees him on the boardwalk and starts laughing before he can stop himself. Bucky opens his arms and spins around. “Yep, get a good view. The one night of the year I go all out.”

Steve is wearing a star-spangled tank top that shows off his biceps alarmingly well. “Hey, I’m all about patriotism.”

“My, you gents look fine tonight,” Peggy announces as she walks near them. She’s wearing a short dress with stars and stripes that makes her look like a USO girl right out of the forties. “Are you boys in the service? I do love a man in uniform.” She props her hands on Bucky’s shoulder and bats her eyes.

Bucky laughs a little, then clears his throat and decides to play along. “And I’m sure you’re doing all you can for your country, collecting scrap metal and such.”

“Of course, it’s the least I can do,” she says, then plants a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. She sees another waitress from the diner, her name is Darcy or something, and Peggy salutes Steve and Bucky before running off with Darcy.

Bucky shakes his head fondly, then looks back at Steve, smiling. The lights from the amusement park flash across their faces, almost reminding Bucky of that night in the club.

Steve looks up at the rollercoasters and sighs. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky says, suddenly remembering. “We went here, didn’t we? When we were kids?”

Steve nods.

“Yeah, we went here to see the fireworks. It was your...birthday.” Something clicks in Bucky’s head. “Oh my God, it’s your birthday!”

Steve shrugs with a humble smile.

Bucky smacks him in the arm, but he know Steve probably barely feels it. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I don’t know...it’s the fourth of July, I don’t want to make the day about me,” Steve says. They start to stroll down the boardwalk, looking out at the beach, or up at Luna Park.

Bucky crosses his arms and side-eyes the blond. “Steve, you never make anything about you. That’s what your birthday is for, to be rightfully proud that you’ve survived another year.”

Steve stretches his arms over his head and sighs, “Fine, you can tell everyone tomorrow. Throw me a surprise party or something.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s not much of a surprise, now.”

“I’ll act very surprised,” Steve promises.

“You’re not really a good actor,” Bucky laughs. “Remember that play we had to participate in in middle school? It was about the Constitution, and they made you the Bill of Rights because it didn’t have any lines.”

Steve shakes his head. “That was like ten years ago, you can’t hold that against me! Okay, maybe I shouldn’t quit my day job for it, but...” He trails off.

Bucky scoffs and continues walking, kicking up some sand with shoe. “You said you study art at NYU, right?”

Steve nods, swinging his arms back and forth. “Yeah, working on my B.F.A. in Studio Art and hoping that will get me somewhere. What about you?”

“I go to Fordham, double majoring in Russian Studies and Business Management,” Bucky tells him.

“Fordham? Wow, that’s great, Buck. And double major? That’s...enthusiastic,” Steve says, looking impressed.

Bucky rubs at the back of his neck. “It can be tough, yeah, that’s why I don’t really work during school. I’ve gotten this far, though. That’s where I met Natasha, actually. We’re both studying Russian.”

“Your grandparents are Russian, right?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. “They inspired me. It’s actually a really cool culture and language, if people would give it a chance.”

“Say something in Russian,” Steve insists, almost sounding like a dare.

“ _You look really hot tonight,_ ” Bucky says in fluent Russian.

Steve smiles. “Cool. What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Bucky laughs to himself.

Steve lets it go. They walk past a street performer doing tricks with sparklers, making a flame using only his fingers, children giggling as he does. He’ll probably shove the sparklers down his throat later, people seem to be impressed by that.

Steve clears his throat. “You know, not that I don’t think you’re smart, but I always thought you’d join the military right out of high school.”

“It’s okay, I thought I would, too. But during my senior year, but grandmother got really sick, and I couldn’t leave her like that.” Bucky pauses. “By the time she got better, I’d already been accepted to Fordham, and I realized something. I didn’t know what we were fighting for. How could I defend a country that I don’t believe needs defending?”

“I understand,” Steve replies solemnly. “I wanted to join the Army. That’s why I started working out and getting healthier, actually. I guess I just wanted to prove to myself that I could. But I felt the same way; I didn’t know what I’d be fighting for. I think America’s the greatest country in the world, but we get involved in too many conflicts.”

“Exactly,” Bucky agrees.

He’s missed this, just talking to Steve. Like it used to be.

They decide to go get hot dogs at Nathan’s, as a tribute to the famous hot dog eating contest earlier today. Later, they find Peggy and Darcy and some other guys from work and they all ride the Cyclone. Steve and Bucky manage to not ralph up the hot dogs they just ate (but they come pretty close.)

They go on all the rides that are still open, then meet up with the rest of the staff at the beach to watch the final midnight fireworks. Leo and Carina have a blanket laid out on the beach, sitting together with a bottle of champagne.

Leo turns to them and says, “Sorry I didn’t bring enough bubbly for you, kids, this one’s just for me and my best gal.”

Bucky smiles fondly at them. That’s the kind of relationship he wants, one for the storybooks.

Steve sits down in the sand next to Bucky, their shoulders almost touching. He has pretty broad shoulders, though, so it might just be a coincidence.

The first fireworks go off and everyone on the beach cheers. They go off seamlessly, one by one, sometimes two at a time. Some of the fireworks make patters like stars and smiley faces. After a few minutes, Bucky leans back and finds his head in Peggy’s lap. She laughs a little and starts petting his hair as she watches the fireworks go off. Bucky feels a weight on his stomach, and looks down at Steve, who’s decided to lay his head on Bucky’s stomach. Then it’s a full-on chain reaction of the whole Lucky Leo’s family, maybe ten or so of them, laying on each other, like a weird game of Snake. Leo looks at them like they’re crazy, but he loves them all to death.

After the big fireworks finale, they all lay there for a moment, until Bucky announces, “Oh, by the way? Happy birthday, Steve.”

“ _What?_ ” They all cry, and then get up and start piling sand on Steve for not telling them. By the end of it, they’ve sculpted Steve’s sand-body into quite a voluptuous mermaid, and they spend a few minutes snapping pictures with him.

After Bucky gets home, hours later, he’s checking Facebook while he’s in bed and sees a picture that Peggy posted a few minutes ago.

It’s a picture of Bucky sculpting the boobs on mer-Steve, who looks like he wishes he could cover his blush if only his hands weren’t buried under the sand. Bucky looks at the description, which reads “Ariel and Prince Eric getting cheeky...#HappyBirthdaySteve.” He smiles before he realizes he’s even doing it.

He likes the picture and puts his phone back on his nightstand. He buries his face into the pillow to try to hide his grin--from who, probably himself.

 

-

 

The summer days breeze by after that.

Bucky likes the methodical pattern he’s fallen into. He wakes up, eats breakfast, goes for a run if he has the time, gets dressed to a tee, and goes to work. He’s not closing the diner as much anymore, so sometimes he even gets to leave early. Sometimes Natasha comes over and they watch bad Russian films. Not that all Russian films are bad, but Nat makes sure just to pick the worst ones. The Russians do have a strange sense of humor sometimes...

Sometimes she makes Bucky go out with her and Clint, and sometimes Steve comes along, but only when Natasha promises to be on her best behavior. They don’t go anywhere particularly intimate, no clubbing anymore, but there’s always fun things to do in New York.

Steve and Bucky keep up their coy banter at work and Bucky tries his best to ignore the cutesy looks that Peggy gives them. He catches people staring at him sometimes and he wants to shoo them away like pigeons, but instead just asks them, “Don’t you have a job to do?”

When did people become so gossipy?

Bucky’s taking over for one of the line cooks tonight who called in sick, but everyone knows he’s really going to an Arcade Fire concert.

He’s flipping burgers, trying to recall the diner lingo he hasn’t used in months. “Uh, okay, I got a cryin’ Johnny with the works and a groundhog painted red with a side of frog sticks!” He rings the bell and puts the plates under the heat lamp to keep warm.

Bucky takes a rag out of his pocket and wipes down his sweaty face. He’s never really missed working in the kitchen, he’d rather put the plates on the tables than put the food on the plates.

“Last order!” Peggy says, putting the ticket on the order wheel and spinning it toward Bucky.

“Thank God,” Bucky mutters. He turns to the other cook and tells him he can take off for the night, Bucky can handle this last order by himself.

“The customer already paid for his meal, so I’m gonna get out of here, if that’s alright,” Peggy says with a smile.

“Yeah, go ahead. I’m locking up anyway,” Bucky says, waving her away. He checks the ticket and sees that all it says is french fries, thankfully, and hopefully it will be to-go. He’s pretty sure he can feel the grease on the floor eating through his shoes.

He turns off the grill and starts a new batch of french fries in the deep fryer. They only take a few minutes, then Bucky turns off the fryer and throws the fries over some parchment paper in a plastic bowl.

He takes the order out to the front, but all he sees is Steve. He looks around for a moment, confused.

Steve sits down at a table and snaps his fingers at Bucky.

Bucky finally catches on and puts the fries in front of Steve. He sucks his teeth, then says, “You made me make a whole new batch of fries just for you?”

Steve leans back, looking offended. “Is that any way to speak to a paying customer?”

It’s late, he has nothing better to do, so Bucky decides to play along. “My apologies, bub, you looked like a friend of mine.”

“I’m just bustin’ your chops, fella,” Steve says, then takes bites through a couple fries. “This friend of yours, what’s he like?”

Bucky spins around the seat next to Steve and sits on it backwards, real smooth-like. “Well, he used to be kind of a small fry, but he’s pretty hard-boiled now.” He takes a french fry and pops it into his mouth.

“Hard-boiled, eh?” Steve says with a hint of a smirk.

Bucky nods. “Real beefy guy, kinda guy you wouldn’t wanna take in a fight.”

Steve shrugs indifferently. “I think I could take him.”

“You think so?” Bucky questions, taking a couple more fries.

“I can hold my own. Guy like that sounds like bad news, though. What’re you doing hanging around with a cat like that?” Steve tilts his head ever so slightly, one eyebrow arched.

Bucky rests his elbows on the back of the chair. “How do you know I’m not bad news, wise guy?”

Steve lifts and drops his shoulders in an exaggerated movement. “I’m not tryin’ to grill you, I just call ‘em like I see ‘em. And you, my friend, don’t look like you get your rocks off starting fights.” He eats a few more french fries.

Bucky sighs. “I used to. Me and my pal, the one I mentioned before, we used to start a lot of fights we couldn’t finish. Had a hell of a lot of fun, though.”

“Sounds like it,” Steve says. It’s so quiet, the only sounds in the diner are their voices speaking in low tones and a Sinatra song playing from the jukebox.

“So, sugar, are you rationed?” Steve asks softly. Bucky can’t look away from those liquid blue eyes of his.

“I can’t say I’m going steady with anyone at the moment, no,” Bucky replies.

Steve licks his lips and says, “That’s good.”

“Good?” Bucky asks, swallowing hard.

Steve leans in a little closer and says, almost a whisper, “Yeah, it would be rude of me to kiss you if you were already taken.”

Bucky barely has time to process that sentence before Steve’s mouth is on his, gently pressing closer. Bucky bangs his elbow on the back of the chair trying to grab for Steve’s face and he suddenly wishes he didn’t do that smooth chair-spinning trick.

“Hold on, freeze,” Bucky mutters, then spins the chair back around normally and crashes forward into Steve’s lips like a wave.

A million thoughts are running through Bucky’s head, but all he can think about his how soft Steve’s lips are, and slightly salty. He trails his hand up to rest on Steve’s neck, and for a moment, he feels how fast Steve’s pulse is.

Bucky parts from Steve’s mouth and sucks in a breath of air. “Why couldn’t we have started doing this weeks ago?”

Steve huffs a laugh. He touches the pad of his thumb to Bucky’s lips and says, “Buck, we could’ve done this ten years ago.”

“Then we have a lot of time to make up for, don’t we?” Bucky breathes.

Steve frames his hands around Bucky’s face. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Bucky’s eyes flutter closed as his lips meet Steve’s once again, a feeling he hopes he’ll never get used to. He feels that current of energy surging through them again, like that night in the club, and he tingles everywhere that Steve’s touched him.

Bucky’s freezing and he’s on fire all at once, and all he knows is that he never wants to stop kissing Steve Rogers.

 

-

 

The next morning, Bucky Barnes wakes up feeling like a giddy thirteen year-old.

Bucky has the day off and Steve doesn’t go to work until noon, so they set up a coffee date at Bucky’s favorite coffee shop, and no, it isn’t Starbucks.

No matter how much Bucky likes working at Lucky Leo’s, he’s grateful for the days he doesn’t have to put a handful of gel in his hair or wear a bow tie around his neck all day. He takes a quick shower and let’s his hair air dry. He settles on wearing a pair of jeans with the cuff rolled up and a forest green t-shirt.

He takes the subway to Dumbo, then walks until he finds a familiar red-brick building. It’s a little cafe called “East Roast” that he found a couple years ago. The coffee is great but the scones are even better. Bucky definitely never thought he’d be the kind of guy who eats scones, but he also never thought he’d make out with Steve Rogers.

Bucky gets there around nine-thirty and sees Steve already sitting at a table waiting for him. Steve smiles and waves him over when he sees Bucky walk in.

When Bucky reaches the table, he leans down and presses a light kiss to Steve’s lips, because he remembers that’s a thing that he can do now. He takes a seat across from Steve with a smile.

“We should do that more often,” Steve notes.

“I agree,” Bucky nods.

They both laugh a little to break the tension.

“So, coffee?” Bucky suggests.

They wait in line near the front to order. It’s kind of like Starbucks, but they’re not trying to sell novelty teddy bear baristas that people will definitely buy just because it has a logo on it. And it’s way less overpriced. Bucky peers into the display case full of pastries and sandwiches as they pass it.

“You have to try the scones,” Bucky tells Steve.

Steve arches an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m really a scone guy...”

“And you think I am? Trust me, they’re good.”

Steve makes a gesture like “okay, whatever you say.”

There’s a girl and a guy in front of them holding hands. When they get to the front, she orders an iced chai for him and he orders a vanilla frap for her.

“That’s so cheesy,” Steve mutters to Bucky.

Bucky smirks. “Such a cliche.”

Steve meets Bucky’s gaze with a playful look in his eye. “So, what are you going to order for me?”

Bucky only has time to scoff before the barista with a _Rugrats_ tattoo and a monroe piercing asks them, “What can I get for you guys?”

“Uhh,” Bucky looks at Steve, waiting for his answer with a smile, “An Americano?”

“And an iced mocha,” Steve continues. He glances at Bucky, then says, “And two blueberry scones.”

“Sure thing!” The barista says a little too enthusiastically. How many espressos has _she_ had today...

Steve, ever so chivalrous, pays the bill and they sit back at their table with the scones.

Steve bites into one and makes a face. “They’re kinda...hard.”

“They’re better when you dip them in the coffee,” Bucky says, shaking his head.

Steve shrugs and puts down the scone. “So, Americano, eh?”

“You sure do look like an All-American Man to me,” Bucky teases. “And you chose iced mocha for me because I’m just so _hot_ , right?”

Steve laughs softly, “Of course. What’s your temperature, 104? 105? I’m worried for your health, Bucky.”

“Shut up,” Bucky jokes. He reaches across the table to fake-slap Steve, but Steve grabs his hand and lightly kisses Bucky’s knuckles.

 _This guy’s gonna be the death of me,_ Bucky thinks, his face getting warmer.

The barista comes over with their coffees and Bucky pulls his hand away from Steve’s on instinct. He’s lived right outside of New York City his whole life, but not all of New York is so accepting. Kids on his street used to get beat up if anyone even thought they were gay. He knows that more people are out and proud now, but it’s hard for him to shake that fear. There’s some part of him that doesn’t want to be seen as gay or queer because somehow that equates as “different,” and more than anything, Bucky just wants to be a normal guy. So why can’t he be a normal guy with a boyfriend?

“Americano and an iced mocha,” she says as she places the drinks on the table. She starts to turn around, then turns back and says, “By the way, you guys make a really cute couple.”

“Oh, we’re n-” Bucky sputters.

“Thanks,” Steve cuts in.

She smiles and walks back to the cash register.

Bucky gives Steve a look.

“Well, she’s not lying,” Steve admits. “We are a pretty cute couple. I mean, we could be.”

“You think so?” Bucky takes a sip of his iced mocha, thinking somehow that the caffeine will keep him from saying something stupid. It’s a lot sweeter than his usual day old, leftover black coffee.

Steve tries to bite the smile from his lips and looks away from Bucky, out the window at the passersby unaware of their existence.

Bucky grabs Steve’s hands from across the table and rubs his thumb softly over Steve’s. “Sorry for pulling away before. I’ve never, uh...I don’t really go out with guys much.”

“I get it,” Steve says. “I remember where we grew up. I don’t go out with a lot of guys, either. I don’t go out with much of anybody, really.”

“I don’t believe that,” Bucky laughs in disbelief. “You probably have dozens of people lined up outside your door.”

“I could say the same about you, Barnes,” Steve chuckles. Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m not saying I haven’t dated anyone, but all the people I’ve dated, girls and guys, don’t seem to understand what ‘bisexual’ means. They all think I’m just confused or I’m going to cheat on them.” Steve sighs and rubs roughly at the back of his neck.

“That’s ridiculous,” Bucky comments, “But I understand what you mean. That’s mainly why I don’t use labels, because of the connotations that they all have.”

“I can respect that,” Steve says with a smile. It feels good to finally feel truly accepted, Bucky thinks, because Steve actually understands.

They’re both quiet for a moment, until Bucky sighs, then says, “I guess we are a cute couple.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Are you asking me to be your fella?”

“If you say so, hotshot,” Bucky says with a smirk.

They drink their coffees and end up switching halfway through because Steve likes his coffee sweeter and Bucky makes a cheesy comment about how sweet he is, and Steve riffs back that he’s just “bitter.” Steve talks about NYU and his roommate, Sam, who he met there. He promises to sketch Bucky like one of his French boys sometime, but don’t even mention how many times Sam has made that joke. Bucky loves listening to Steve, hearing the inflection in his voice and watching his facial expressions change. It reminds him of the old days when Steve would go on and on about something he learned at school and Bucky would humor him by shutting up for a few minutes. Bucky tells himself that everything happens for a reason, but he wishes he would’ve known Steve was here sooner. More than that, he wishes Steve had never left.

When they finally leave, they walk to the subway station together hand in hand. Bucky’s never been much of a hand-holding guy, but there’s something about the way his hand fits with Steve’s that makes him want to hold hands forever.

They stop at the York Street station between where their separate trains meet, standing like a couple of lovey-dovey dorks.

“I’ve never wanted to skip work so badly,” Steve groans.

“If the both of us take the day off, people might get suspicious,” Bucky teases, taking a step closer to him.

“Like they aren’t already? Your flirting isn’t exactly subtle,” Steve replies, his face inches away from Bucky’s.

Bucky raises his eyebrows with a smirk. “ _My_ flirting? You’re the one-”

He’s cut off by Steve dipping his mouth forward into Bucky’s. _Nope, still not used to it,_ Bucky thinks, inhaling sharply.

Bucky’s five o’clock shadow rubs against Steve’s clean shaven chin. Steve’s strong arms pull him closer by his waist.

Bucky drags his mouth away to say, “That’s not fair.”

Steve kisses his cheek, then says, “You could skip your day off and come to work with me...?”

“Like I’d be able to keep my hands off of you,” Bucky quips. “Anyway, I’m going to see my grandparents today.”

“Say good things about me,” Steve insists.

“As if I could find anything bad to say about you,” Bucky smirks. He presses another kiss to Steve’s lips and says, “You should come over tonight.”

He realizes how that sounds and quickly continues, “I mean, like, for dinner. After work.”

Steve laughs softly and says, “It’s a date.”

Now they’re standing in the middle of the subway station making out and Bucky doesn’t care if anyone is staring. For the first time, he doesn’t care what anybody else thinks of him because he hasn’t felt this good in a while. When he’s with Steve, nothing else really matters. It’s almost painful to break away from Steve when the train arrives. He says a “see you later” and gets on the train, riding away until Steve disappears. He has to choke down the feeling of wanting to tell everyone on this train how irrevocably hard he’s falling for Steve Rogers. Steve certainly doesn’t help by texting him an emoji of a kissy face. Bucky physically can’t stop himself from grinning and probably looks like a crazy person during the whole ride to Brooklyn.

 

-

 

His grandparents’ house has looked the same for as long as he can remember. It even smells the same, too. Every time he comes to visit, every week or so, he gets a whiff of nostalgia walking through the door.

His _babushka_ is in the kitchen making something to eat, like she always is whenever he comes over, and she gives him a big hug. She may look like a little old lady, but she hugs so tight Bucky thinks she’s gonna break a bone, and not one of her own, either.

“What are you making today?” He asks in Russian. His grandparents speak English, albeit not very well, but he always sees his visits as a time to practice his Russian.

“ _Pelmeni_ , your favorite,” she replies, and goes back to sauteing onions. Of course, everything she makes is his favorite, apparently. Every time he comes over it’s “borscht, your favorite” or “kotlety, your favorite.”

“James, my boy,” Bucky’s grandpa says as he greets him in the living room. He’s reading in his recliner like he usually is. “How are you?”

“I’m great, _deda_ ,” Bucky tells him, and he genuinely means it.

“You work at a restaurant, why do you look so skinny?” His grandpa chides.

Bucky laughs and assures him that he’s fine, then his grandma calls him into the kitchen to help her. He kneads out the dough for the pelmeni, which are basically dumplings with meat and onions.

 _Babushka_ asks him how he’s been, if he’s eating enough, how the diner’s doing. He answers fine, yes, great, but still has the urge to shout Steve’s name from the rooftop. Bucky’s come to visit a few times since Steve has come back, but he hasn’t mentioned him to his grandparents yet.

“Hey, do you remember Steve Rogers?” He asks his grandma.

She thinks for a moment. “That skinny boy with the blonde hair?” Bucky nods. “Oh, yes, he was a nice boy. You two were always getting in trouble, though. You haven’t mentioned him in years.”

“I know, but, he’s back in New York,” Bucky tells her, still kneading the dough with the palm of his hand. “He works at the diner, actually. We’ve kind of...reconnected.”

“That’s nice, you two were such good friends,” she says as she puts some ground meat into a mixing bowl.

 _Well, now we’re kind of more than friends,_ Bucky thinks. He wants to tell her, really, but his sexuality is something they’ve never really discussed. He doesn’t want to give his only grandmother a heart attack. Russia isn’t exactly known for its tolerance, and she’s a great lady, but there’s still that fear that she won’t understand. That she’ll look at him differently, disown him even. Maybe he’ll tell his grandparents one day; maybe on his wedding day, or even after that.

“He’s a really great guy,” is all he says.

They finish making the dumplings a little later and all eat lunch together. Grandpa complains about technology, grandma complains about the government, Bucky rolls his eyes and can’t help but love them.

 

-

 

By the time he gets back to his apartment, it’s after five o’clock. _Babushka_ sends him off with a tupperware full of extra pelmeni and some tea cakes, as she always does. Steve gets off work in two hours--he knows because he’s the one that makes the schedule--and his apartment is a wreck. He still has books and old papers stacked up on his coffee table, bills and envelopes on the kitchen counter. He hasn’t done dishes in two weeks--in fact, he specifically bought paper plates so he could postpone using real dishes.

His method of cleaning is basically shove everything into a box and put it in the closet to deal with later. And Bucky will probably “deal with” it by completely forgetting about it.

He shoves some crumbs off his bed and actually makes it, tucking in the corners and everything. He just has time to take a quick shower and find something that smells clean to wear before he hears a knock at the door.

Bucky looks through the peephole to check that it’s Steve, because his apartment isn’t even nice enough to have an intercom system, and, as he expected, it’s Steve.

“Sorry, I don’t want any Girl Scout cookies,” Bucky says through the door. He sees Steve scowl through the peephole.

He opens the door and sees Steve, still wearing his uniform. “Sorry, no cookies. Oh, wait-”

Steve reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small packet of Saltines. “Cookies, crackers, basically the same thing.”

Bucky smiles and pulls him inside. He wraps an arm around Steve’s neck and draws him closer into a kiss, making a smacking sound with his lips.

Steve hums into his mouth, then parts away to say, “What’s for dinner?”

“Uh, dinner. Right,” Bucky says, suddenly realizing he has no plans and barely any food. He hurries into the kitchen--more of a kitchenette, really--and glances around. “Oh!” He opens the tupperware and holds it out to Steve. “Dumpling?”

Steve doesn’t have to lean in very close to smell them. “Very... _oniony_.”

“Oh, right,” Bucky says sheepishly, turning around to close the tupperware. “Sorry, I forgot dinner involves making food.”

Steve rubs his shoulder. “It’s okay, I had a late lunch. I didn’t come over over to test your cooking skills, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Bucky says, sliding the tupperware away as Steve starts to massage his shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess I kinda like you,” Steve replies, digging his palms into the back of Bucky’s shoulders. A moan escapes Bucky’s mouth when Steve starts to trail kisses down the back of his neck. Eventually, Steve’s hands trail down to his hips and he’s sucking faint marks around Bucky’s neck. Bucky turns around and tilts Steve’s mouth into his, tugging lightly at his bottom lip. Bucky pulls back when he feels Steve lifting him up to sit on the counter. It seems effortless for him, he could probably lift one Bucky on each arm.

Bucky parts his legs for Steve to stand closer, and it’s kind of embarrassing how fast he gets hard when he feels Steve’s body heat against his thighs. He drapes his arms around Steve’s neck and kisses him hard and off-center. His fingers rake through Steve’s blonde hair, happy that Steve doesn’t have to use a lot of product in it at work.

Steve drags his mouth down to the base of Bucky’s jaw, nibbling lightly.

“You know, this is kind of our third date, if you count last night,” Bucky says, breathing hard.

“Mhm,” Steve hums as he tongues the sensitive skin of Bucky’s neck.

“Just in case you, uh, wanted to stick to the rule...” Bucky says slowly, struggling to focus on his train of thought.

Steve puts his palms flat on Bucky’s thighs and leans forward a little. “We’ve known each other for over ten years, I don’t think the rule applies to us.” Bucky smirks into his kiss, then Steve continues, “Now, which way to the bed?”

Bucky hops off the counter and pulls Steve into his room down the hall. Thanks to his fast cleaning, it’s not _as_ messy anymore. Well, at least the bed is clean.

His heart is pounding and his fingers are clumsy as he tries to unbutton Steve’s shirt and pull his tie off. Steve shimmies the rest of his shirt off and throws it in a bundle on the floor. Bucky eyes his bare chest hungrily and then pushes Steve down on the bed.

He half-sighs, half-laughs as he says, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Steve smiles and lets his head fall back against the sheets.

Bucky unbuttons his own jeans and pulls them off quickly, then climbs on the bed to straddle Steve. He runs his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s abs, leaving trails of goosebumps in his wake. He meets Steve’s curious gaze--he’s all blue eyes and pink cheeks and thick eyebrows.

Without realizing it, Bucky makes a face when Steve starts to tug at the bottom of his shirt.

“Do you not want to...?” Steve asks sincerely.

“No! I do, it’s just...” Bucky begins, tugging a hand through his dark hair, “I’m no Greek god.” He makes a gesture toward Steve’s body.

Steve props himself up on his elbows. “You think I care about that? God, Buck, you- you’re beautiful. And handsome, and sexy, and charming, and everything else.”

“Me?” Bucky says incredulously. “Steve, you’re _perfect_. Not just because of all this you got goin’ on, but because you’re the genuinely nicest guy I’ve ever met.” He pauses. “I hope you don’t think I like you just because of how hot you are.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I know you don’t. I don’t know that with other people, but you...you’re Bucky. You liked me even when I was a scrawny, asthmatic twelve year-old.”

Bucky smiles, chewing on his bottom lip a little bit. He finally pulls his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor next to Steve’s.

Steve pulls Bucky down into a slow, lingering kiss, his tongue tracing over the outline of Bucky’s lips. “Did I mention your lips?” He hums. “Because, damn, you’ve got nice lips.”

The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up and he rolls his hips smoothly against Steve’s, a gasp escaping both of their mouths.

Steve’s head falls back against the sheets and he chokes out, “You’re gonna make me wish I brought my inhaler.”

Bucky chuckles into his shoulder, biting a little bit, and replies, “I sure hope so, Rogers.”

 

-

 

Bucky wakes up the next morning with a weight on his chest and the sunlight streaming in his face. He cracks his eyes open and looks down at an arm splayed across his ribs, and upon glancing to the left, he sees that Steve is attached to it. He traces the lines on Steve’s palm until Steve’s hand closes on his. A grin spreads to Bucky’s cheeks when he looks over at Steve, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

“G’morning,” Bucky says in a gravelly, barely-awake tone.

Steve makes a noise as he stretches his legs out, then asks, “What time is it?”

Bucky looks over at his clock and squints at the display. “Uhh, ten.”

“Ten?” Steve says, eyes suddenly wide.

Bucky makes the connection a second after him. “Shit! We’re late for work!”

He jumps out of bed and darts toward his closet, simultaneously shouting directions to the bathroom at Steve, who’s already jogging naked out the bedroom door with a bundle of clothes in his arms. Bucky might spare a second to take a peek.

Bucky finds some boxers hanging on the closet door and pulls them on, then pulls out his work uniform and throws it on the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress to quickly shake his ass into the black slacks and loop his belt through the holes. Steve walks in a minute later with his hair slicked back and wearing slightly more clothes, but only his briefs and a wrinkled, unbuttoned white shirt.

“Hold on, let me capture this moment,” Bucky says as he reaches toward his phone.

Steve smirks and slaps his hand away.

“Not even a Snapchat?” Bucky teases, pouting his lip.

Steve rolls his eyes and starts buttoning up his shirt. “Well, this isn’t exactly how I imagined this morning would go.”

“Yeah, you were probably going to sneak out before I woke up, right?” Bucky jokes as he slips on his own shirt.

“Right, because that’s the kind of guy I am,” Steve says, sitting next to him on the bed and tugging on his slacks.

“Hit it and quit it,” Bucky replies, and then they both break out into fits of laughter while trying to productively put on more clothes.

Bucky catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window and paces toward the bathroom to try to fix his messy nest of hair. He spends a minute combing through it and then settles for hastily pushing it out of his face with some water. Steve comes in all dressed with one clip-on bow-tie and one real tie in his hand. He clips on Bucky’s tie while Bucky wraps Steve’s under his collar and tries to remember how to actually tie a bow tie.

“I can’t believe you wear an actual tie,” Bucky mutters, trying to focus on which side he just looped under the other.

“Sorry, I’m old fashioned,” Steve says with a smirk.

Bucky pulls the tie into a tight bow and presses a kiss to Steve’s lips. He wishes he could linger in that moment longer, but he was supposed to be at work an hour ago.

He grabs his shoes and his keys and more or less pushes Steve out the door with him. When they get downstairs, Bucky had almost forgotten about Steve’s motorcycle. Steve mounts the bike and tosses the helmet at Bucky. Bucky puts on the helmet and tightens it under his chin as he hops on the back of the motorcycle. He puts his arms around Steve’s waist just like that night Steve gave Peggy a ride home.

Steve grips the handlebars and revs the engine into life. Bucky jolts back when Steve twists the throttle and they ride off into the streets of Brooklyn.

They finally show up at Lucky Leo’s ten minutes later, diving in and out of traffic on their way.

The door chimes as Steve and Bucky burst in, ever so indiscreetly. Steve’s hair is perfectly windswept, while Bucky has a serious case of messy helmet hair. Strands of damp hair stick to his forehead even after he tries to push them away. There’s not a person in the diner who isn’t staring at them.

Carina approaches them with her arms crossed, looking none too pleased. “How nice of you two to finally make an appearance.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I forgot to set my alarm!” Bucky pleads, kissing both her cheeks.

Carina rolls her eyes, then clicks her tongue and replies, “You know I can’t stay mad at you. Go talk to Leo when you have a minute, though, okay?”

“Yes, Carina, of course,” Bucky says with an apologetic smile.

She points a finger at Steve and says, “Don’t let him be a bad influence on you.”

Steve smirks a little and says, “Sure, Carina.”

She makes a dismissive gesture and ambles off to chat with a couple of the regulars.

Peggy struts over with a devilish grin, her starched, white dress barely swaying with her hips. “Hmm, what are the odds that the two of you show up an hour late at the same time?”

Bucky shakes his head as Steve stifles back a laugh. Bucky playfully shoves him away and tells him to go make himself useful.

Bucky starts to walk away, but Peggy follows close behind.

“Just a casual coincidence, then?” Peggy teases.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Bucky says, still not looking at her.

“Bucky!” Peggy fusses.

He opens Leo’s office, hoping whatever he has to say won’t be any worse than the rest of the pestering he expects to get today. “Bye, Peggy,” he says as he shuts the door inches from her face. He turns around and meets Leo’s odd expression.

“You’re late, Buck,” Leo says in his Brooklyn accent. “You’re never late, what’s the deal?”

Bucky sits in the chair across from him and exhales hard. “Sorry, I got a little sidetracked.”

“That’s not the kind of thing I expect from my best employee, you know,” Leo says with a shrug. “If you don’t watch out, Peggy, or even that Rogers kid, might beat you to the chase.”

“Well, they’re really great, too, Leo,” Bucky says modestly.

Leo leans back in his chair slightly, creaking and sighing with age. The chair, not the man. Though, Leo does some of that, too. “I’m thinking about making Peggy the seasonal manager next year.”

“Come on, Leo, this is the first time I’ve been late the whole summer,” Bucky says, almost begging. “I haven’t been a bad manager, right?”

“No, son, you’ve been top notch. I just think it might be too much responsibility for you-”

Now Bucky’s starting to get frustrated. “You kiddin’ me, Leo? You’ve known me for years-”

“Would you let me finish?” Leo cuts him off. Bucky sighs and lets him continue. “I’m just saying, I don’t know if you could handle being the manager while running the whole diner.”

Bucky furrows his brows and replies, “Huh?”

Leo leans forward and tells him, “I’m leaving you the diner, Bucky. If you want it.”

“You’re...you’re leaving me the diner?” Bucky says breathlessly. “God, Leo. This is--you’re serious?”

“Yeah, can you get that through your thick skull?” Leo says with a hefty chuckle.

“Why would you leave it to me? Are you okay? Are you sick?” Bucky says, still in disbelief.

“Cool down, I’m fine. Me and Carina are looking into retirement, though. She wants to live somewhere on the water, away from the city. Maybe Rhode Island or Massachusetts.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “And, you know, you’re the closest thing to an heir I’ve got. When I say you’re like a son to me, I mean that, Bucky.”

“I know, Leo, and you’re like a dad to me, but I...I never expected this.” Bucky rubs the stubble on his jaw, leaning back into his similarly squeaky chair.

“Well, what do you say? You think you’re up for it?” Leo asks, looking at him expectantly.

Bucky thinks for a moment, a million thoughts running through his head. He’s been worrying about what to do after he graduates next year, and here’s Leo giving him an answer, like a hairy angel sent from cheeseburger heaven.

“Yeah. Yes, definitely,” Bucky stammers out.

“I know you’ll take good care of this place,” Leo says with a soft smile. “Just do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Bucky replies quickly.

“Don’t rename the place ‘Lucky Bucky’s’ until I’m dead for at least fifteen years.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “I promise. I mean, who’s arrogant enough to name a restaurant after their self?”

Leo shakes his head at Bucky’s joke. “Go make up for all the time you were supposed to be working.”

Before Bucky shuts the door on his way out, he says, “Lucky Bucky’s. Pretty catchy, though...”

He plans on going back to the front to clean tables or something, but ends up making a B-line toward the storage room to catch his breath. He must have some really great karma, because he finds Steve already unloading some boxes in the storage room.

“Hey,” Steve says with a smile, then notices Bucky’s wide-eyed expression. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” Bucky pauses and finds a shelf to rest on. “Leo’s leaving me the diner when he retires.”

“Bucky, that’s huge!” Steve says, putting down a can of tomato sauce.

“I know. Trust me, I’m kinda freaking out,” Bucky replies, suddenly realizing what an honor this really is.

Steve gets up and draws Bucky into a hug. “You’re gonna do great. You already spend most of your time here anyway, right?”

Bucky nods, pulling away from their embrace but keeping his fingers interwoven with Steve’s. “At least now I’ll have something to do with my business degree.”

As Bucky looks into Steve’s kind, blue eyes and thinks about all the best parts of this summer, he can’t help but wonder if this is his reward for all the other shit he’s been through. For once in his life, he’s being dealt a great hand and he’s not folding.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve takes a step closer to him. “I don’t see anyone stopping you.”

Bucky smiles into Steve’s kiss, his mouth warm and soft. He can’t imagine anything ruining this moment, until he hears the door open and glances over to see Peggy with a box in her arms.

Peggy grins, and then says with a sigh, “You guys are never gonna get any work done around here, are you?”

Bucky hopes he hasn’t jinxed himself with the whole karma thing.

“Let’s just pretend you didn’t see this...” Steve says slowly.

Peggy shrugs. “You can pretend whatever you want, darling.” She shoves the box into Steve’s hands and flounces away looking pleased with herself.

Bucky breathes out and lets his head fall back, hitting a can of something.

Steve pushes some hair out of Bucky’s face and says, “It’s not like anyone is gonna be surprised.”

“I guess,” Bucky replies. He’s always liked to keep his private life private, though. Besides, Lucky Leo’s is his home away from home and the people here are like his family, why shouldn’t he trust them? “Seriously, though. We’re gonna have to keep at least a ten foot space between us at work. The moment we walk through the front door, you mean nothing to me, okay?”

Steve laughs, but then coughs and puts on a serious face. “Of course, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky kisses his cheek quickly, then turns on his heel to walk out. He turns back for a moment and points his finger, asserting, “Absolutely nothing.”

Steve nods, pursing his lips to keep from cracking a smile.

It’s not long before everyone knows they’re dating and no one is surprised. Bucky is finally comfortable enough to introduce Steve as his boyfriend and Steve does the same. They have dinners at Bucky’s grandparents house, and while Bucky never explicitly explains their relationship to his grandparents, he can tell that they understand. His grandmother says once that Bucky “lights up” whenever Steve’s around, that he’s the happiest she’s seen him in years. He appreciates that more than she knows. She’s always been supportive of him, it takes a weight off his shoulders to know how accepting she is.

The summer days start to cool off and soon enough, vacation is over and they’re going back to school.

Steve and Bucky drive to the airport with Peggy and her mom to see her off. Soon she’ll be far away, back in London, but never too far. Peggy tries to maintain her composure as she hugs her mom, then Steve, then Bucky, saying goodbye to each.

“I’m so glad I met you two,” Peggy tells Steve and Bucky as he holds each of their hands. “How am I supposed to wait nine months to see you again?”

“It’s not like we won’t keep in touch,” Steve says, squeezing her hand.

“We’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back,” Bucky adds.

She hugs both of them and kisses her mom on the cheek, then walks toward her gate with the same confidence and dignity she always has.

There are more changes that come after that, but some are for the better.

The lease on Bucky’s apartment ends in early September and Steve proposes that Bucky move in with him. It’s not a sudden change for them, no matter how fast it might seem. And it’s a smart choice, too. Steve’s place is closer to both of their schools, and less stabbings happen there. Steve has a roommate, Sam, but he doesn’t mind. Bucky living there just means he has to pay less rent. Sam and Bucky don’t spend much time together, but they get along when they do. Besides, it’s not like Bucky hasn’t spent time at Steve’s place before. He’s spent many nights there, actually. Consecutively.

After they’ve unearthed Bucky’s hoarder tendencies and moved in all the stuff they didn’t throw away, which was a lot, they find time to relax.

Steve lays on the couch with Bucky’s head resting on his stomach, breathing low while a familiar Nat King Cole song plays in the background. Bucky hums along absentmindedly as Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s dark, wavy hair.

The apartment is a little more full with Bucky’s things, just a couple chairs, a desk, a dresser, less space in the closet, but neither of them need much. There’s some of Steve’s art on the walls, Bucky’s books on the shelf, Sam’s techie gadgets on the coffee table. It’s not just full of material things, it’s full of life. There are dents in the wall and stains on the carpet, but that’s natural. This building is decades old, countless lives have been lived here.

As Steve looks around at the perfect imperfections, he knows there’s nowhere else he’d rather be at this moment.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve says softly.

“Hmm?” Bucky murmurs.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Steve replies, then adds, almost as a sidenote, “I love you.”

Bucky’s chest flutters, then he smiles and turns his face toward Steve. “I love you, too, Steve.”

Steve grins back at him, weaving his fingers between Bucky’s. Bucky sighs happily and continues humming along with the music, eventually drifting off to sleep to the cadence of Steve’s breathing.

 

-

 

_I love you for sentimental reasons_

_I hope you do believe me_

_I've given you my heart_

 


	2. Epilogue

_Nine months later..._

 

“ _Fuck_ , Steve-” Bucky says, cut off by his own moaning. He buries his face deeper into the pillow, biting hard into the fabric as Steve thrusts into him. His hips smack hard against Bucky’s ass, but neither of them really care.

Steve drags his nails lightly down Bucky’s spine, leaving Bucky shuddering and clawing at the sheets.

Steve breathes in quick bursts as beads of sweat form on his forehead. It’s sweltering outside, so, of course, their solution is to make it even hotter in their room.

“Oh god,” Bucky breathes, feeling his face getting hotter and undoubtedly more flushed.

Steve pauses to flip Bucky over onto his back effortlessly, then continues steadily pushing deeper into him. Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s back, a move that took weeks of stretching to get right, pressing him closer.

Steve dips his neck down to nibble at the base of Bucky’s taut throat. Bucky bites his lip and lets his eyes roll back as he feels himself almost going over the top, the pressure expanding like a balloon about to burst.

“Shit, Buck, I’m-” Steve moans before Bucky remembers how his vocal chords work. He catches Steve in a clumsy kiss, tugging lightly at his bottom lip with his teeth.

Steve makes a low, rough noise in the back of his throat as he feels his release, his whole body quivering with pleasure.

Seconds later, Bucky climaxes just as he hears a voice outside the door say, “Are you two done yet?”

Bucky lets out a groan, equal parts satisfied and bitter. “What the _fuck_ , Natasha?” Bucky yells as Steve rolls off onto the other side of the bed

He wipes off his stomach with a shirt he finds in the laundry basket and glances back at Steve, who’s covering his face with his hands.

Bucky wraps a towel around his waist and opens the door to find an apathetic-looking Natasha leaning against the wall. “I repeat, what the fuck?”

“Peggy called to say she might be late to the ceremony,” she tells him.

“And you couldn’t wait to tell me that until... _after?_ ” Bucky says crossly.

“I thought I _did_ wait,” Natasha says defensively. She seriously has no shame.

“You were listening?!” Steve shouts from the bed, covered with a thin sheet.

“Only for a couple minutes, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Natasha mutters, then winks at him and adds, “Or lack thereof.”

Bucky exhales hard, shaking his head. After a pause, he says, “Remember our talk about boundaries, Nat?”

“Vaguely,” she replies.

“This is a situation where you’re overstepping them,” Bucky says, enunciating clearly.

“Fine, fine,” Natasha says dismissively. “You know graduation starts in half an hour, though, right?”

_Shit,_ Bucky thinks, but he doesn’t want her to see him panic. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

Bucky shuts the door and hisses, “Damn you, Steve Rogers, and that thing you do with your tongue.”

“ _Sorry,_ ” Steve says, but the grin on his face says otherwise.

Bucky jumps in the shower just so he doesn’t show up to his own graduation ceremony smelling like sex and sweat. Steve follows him in a minute later and Bucky quickly turns the water to cold. He can’t get distracted right now.

Steve stays in the shower while Bucky dries off and combs his hair back. He grabs the outfit from the closet that he had thankfully ironed the night before; a simple, light blue button down, grey slacks, and a navy tie.

Meanwhile, Natasha is invading their privacy. It’s nothing personal, it’s just something she does when she’s bored. She’s been ready for an hour because it’s her graduation, too, and she doesn’t wait until the last minute to do things like _some_ people. She adjusts the peplum on her fitted, cream-colored dress and checks her reflection shining on the face of the microwave.

“Twenty minutes!” She yells while tucking a red curl behind her ear.

Steve and Bucky come out a few minutes later, fully dressed this time. Bucky wears what he planned before, and Steve compliments a grey collared shirt and a pair of khakis with a dark belt.

“Don’t you boys clean up well?” She mentions pleasantly.

Bucky flips her off and grabs his keys off the table by the front door. While they’re walking downstairs, Steve remains cordial and compliments her outfit. She thanks him and calls him “Stevie,” which he kind of hates, but if he told her that she’d probably just say it more often. She can be nice, she has her moments, but she might just be subconsciously vindictive. Bucky says it’s a defense mechanism, but they’ve both seen her knock a guy out cold, so she can defend herself pretty damn well.

“How did you even get in our apartment?” Steve asks as Natasha starts the car.

“You gave me a key,” she responds, then dangles it in front of his face.

“For _emergencies,_ ” Bucky reminds her.

“And being on time to your college graduation isn’t an emergency?” Natasha says, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

Bucky shoots Steve a look that says, _don’t bother._ She always gets her way.

Bucky glances out the window and sees that they’re taking a different route than what he expected. “Are we picking up Clint?”

“He’ll probably meet us there,” Natasha says with disregard.

Steve and Bucky share a curious glance.

“Are you guys fighting or something?” Bucky inquires, but the real question is when aren’t they fighting. Literally or figuratively--they go to a boxing class sometimes and Natasha kicks his ass more times than not.

Natasha sighs, keeping her eyes focused on the road ahead of her. “I don’t know. He did something stupid.”

“What?” Bucky asks. The things she thinks are “stupid” are usually cheesy or romantic.

Natasha shrugs. “He kinda proposed.”

“Proposed? As in marriage? With a ring?” Steve blurts out.

“Yes, and no. There wasn’t a ring. A few days ago, we were just laying around and he started talking about the future and marriage and asked if I ever wanted that, and I said I don’t know, maybe, and he said maybe we should get married one day. I was like, whatever, and I haven’t really talked to him since.”

There’s silence in the car for a moment, then Bucky says, hesitantly, “Well? Do you want to marry him?”

“I don’t know!” Natasha snaps. “I mean, I don’t want to stop hanging out with him, but marriage is just so...possessive. I don’t want to be someone’s property, like a fucking trophy wife.”

“That’s not really what marriage is about...” Steve comments, but it goes ignored.

“But you owe it to him to tell him that, Nat. Use your words,” Bucky says, maybe with a bit of condescension.

Natasha curses at him in Russian, gripping the steering wheel hard.

“Your _English_ words,” Bucky remarks.

“Since when are you a relationship expert?” Natasha grumbles.

“Let’s see who has the better track record right now: I’ve had a stable boyfriend for almost a year,” Bucky pauses to high-five Steve, “And you’ve been fuckbuddies with Clint for three and neither of you have ever defined your relationship. At least he’s making an effort, Nat.”

Natasha sighs and turns up the radio to a bad pop song, effectively ignoring them for the rest of the ride. (You know she’s pissed when she’d rather listen to mainstream music than continue talking.)

Steve and Bucky attempt to chat over Katy Perry blaring out of the speakers, only for a few minutes until they reach the school. Natasha parks the car haphazardly but somehow manages to fit into the space perfectly.

A bell chimes across the campus, signaling ten minutes until the graduation procession begins.

Bucky grabs their caps and gowns and starts to jog across the lawn, then stops when he hears Natasha yell, “I will NOT run in these heels, James!”

“Go ahead, I’ll handle it!” Steve shouts at Bucky. The next time Bucky turns his head he sees Steve running behind him carrying Natasha on his back. They’re both smiling and laughing wildly and Bucky can’t help but join them.

They finally reach the building where all the graduates are supposed to meet with five minutes to spare. Natasha hops off Steve’s back and gives him a thankful smile.

“The last moments of our collegiate lives,” she tells Bucky as she takes her black cap and gown from his arms.

“See you on the other side,” Bucky smiles, watching her strut off to the front.

He turns back to Steve with a small sigh. “They grow up so fast.”

Steve smiles and reaches out to fit the black cap to Bucky’s head, placing the tassel on the right.

“You should probably go find a seat,” Bucky says softly.

“You’re right. I hear this is the place to be,” Steve quips. He presses a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips and wanders down the hall toward the seating on the lawn. Steve turns back for a moment, giving Bucky a coy look because he totally knew Bucky was looking at his ass.

Bucky bites back a laugh as he shimmies on his gown, then wanders around trying to find his place in line.

The processional music starts just as Bucky gets in line, right between Baptiste and Barrowman. He attempts to breathe evenly as they all start to walk outside toward the stage. Why should he be nervous, anyway? He’s done all the work, he’s earned the degrees, he even has a job lined up after he graduates. That’s more than most of his classmates can say. Worst case scenario, he throws up on the Dean of the college while he’s being handed his diploma.

Bucky’s stomach turns a little.

He winces when they get outside, the sun streaming into his face, but his eyes adjust by the time he sits down.

The Dean introduces herself and says some nice things about the university, reads the mission statement, typical graduation rituals. Bucky gets empathetically nervous when the Dean reads her last statement.

“Now, I’m overjoyed to introduce you to the class of 2015 valedictorian...Natasha Romanoff.”

The large crowd claps politely, Bucky even whistles a little bit, and Natasha steps gracefully toward the podium.

“Thank you, I’m beyond honored to be your valedictorian. This is the part where I talk about how time flies when you’re having fun, right, kids? Seriously, though, the past four years of my life have been really fun, but they’ve also been really tough. I’ve made the same mistakes you guys have; cramming all night before a midterm, going to that kegger the night before your eight AM class, forgetting to bring a towel to the co-ed showers. In a way, I think college has humbled us all. We’ve lived off nothing but ramen and Mountain Dew for weeks at a time. I’m sure some of us have cried tears of joy receiving a fifteen dollar Starbucks gift card for our birthday. College is just a taste of the real world, but it’s where we learn how to live. We’ve all made mistakes, but we’ve learned from them. One thing I always heard was that college would be the best time of my life. I’ve made a lot of memories here, good and bad, but I don’t believe that. Sure, we’ll always have the student loan bills to remind us of the fun times, but we have the rest of our lives ahead of us. So, yeah, college has been fun, and it’s been hard, but one thing I know is that all of us have worked our asses off for these diplomas. I’m not usually a glass half full kind of person, but I believe that all of us will achieve something greater than what we’ve tried to accomplish in our years spent in these hallowed halls.”

She goes on to talk about the things she’s learned, mostly Russian cuss words, and some of the accomplishments from the class of 2015. When Natasha finishes her speech, Bucky is cheering the loudest, but he can also distinctly hear Steve and Clint shouting behind him.

Slowly but surely, the graduates names are announced. Natasha is given her diploma first, because she’s the best and she deserves it. Bucky doesn’t even have time to be nervous because he’s in the second row and already walking toward the stage. Once on the steps, he can see into the crowd, past the graduates. He squints until he sees Peggy waving her arms and grinning. Next to her is Steve and Clint, even Sam, then Leo and Carina, then his grandparents, then a few of his friends from the diner. He couldn’t ask for a better, more supportive makeshift family.

“...Scott Baer...Marta Baptiste...James Barnes,” Bucky shakes the Dean’s hand as he takes his diploma, pausing momentarily for a picture. He can hear Steve and Clint and Peggy cheering for him, and even Natasha, who he can see standing up in the front row. Bucky grins and says a quick thank you before he’s ushered off stage and they’re onto the next graduate.

He has to sit through the next two hours of the ceremony listening to the names of people he barely knows or never met in the first place. At the forty-five minute mark he wants to jump out of his seat and go have lunch with the people he actually cares about, but that’s generally frowned upon.

Bucky claps hard with relief when the final name is called and the final words are said and he can _finally_ get out of this plastic folding chair. Of course, there’s the tradition of throwing all the caps in the air that he still has to participate in. He actually misses the moment where they toss the caps, but he doesn’t care too much, because at least he knows whose sweat rims the edge of his cap now. Everyone starts to scatter slowly, but he would sprint across the lawn if there weren’t a thousand people in his way.

Natasha comes up beside him and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Let me be the first to say, no matter how cliche, con- _grad-_ ulations.”

Bucky huffs a laugh and says, “And to you.” He pauses a moment as they continue shuffling their way through the crowd. “You changed your speech since I last read it. You didn’t call anyone an idiot this time.”

“Yeah, well,” Natasha shrugs, “I figured I should sugar-coat it a little bit, seeing as I might not see most of these people ever again. I want to leave them with a good impression.”

Bucky considers making a snide remark, but simply says, “You did well.”

She smiles, looking pleased with herself, then grabs his hand and pulls him along while she cuts through a row of seats. People seem to have spread out more and they can finally rush toward their friends.

Bucky catches Steve in an unexpected hug--a particularly rare occasion with Steve’s sharp reflexes. They stumble back a little, but Steve balances quickly. He squeezes Bucky by the waist tightly and kisses him, lingering for a moment.

Someone taps on Bucky’s shoulder and clears their throat. He reluctantly turns his face away from Steve’s and sees that it’s Clint with Natasha pressed to his side.

Steve releases Bucky from his embrace as Clint asks, “So, how does it feel to be a college graduate, Mr. Barnes?” He holds out his hand like an invisible microphone.

“Uhh...” Bucky thinks, knitting his brows. “I’m going to Disneyland...?”

Clint smiles and turns the microphone toward Natasha. “And how about you, Ms. Romanoff?”

“I’ll let you know after I figure out if my degree is useful or not,” Natasha replies with a smirk. She kisses Clint on the cheek, leaving a light red mark on his face.

“You two seem to be getting along well,” Bucky mentions, eyeing Natasha.

“Why wouldn’t we be? We are in a trusting, exclusive relationship, aren’t we?” She says, eyebrow raised toward Bucky almost like a challenge.

Clint shrugs at this exchange. Must’ve been some talk him and Natasha had in the minute that they’ve seen each other.

“Congrats?” Steve says, looking a little confused. “Or should I say, _congrads_.”

They all groan, knowing that they’ll hear that same sentiment a hundred more times, but Steve just smiles.

“Bucky!” Carina says, pinning her arms around Bucky’s and squeezing him until he can barely breathe. “I’m so happy for you, darling. I wouldn’t want anyone but you to take over the diner.”

“Thanks, Carina,” Bucky replies, catching his breath. Leo steps beside them a second later. “I’ll try my best not to disappoint you guys.”

“The only way you’d disappoint us is if you burned the place down, or turned it into a McDonald’s franchise,” Leo says jokingly.

“No promises,” Bucky teases.

He sees Natasha talking to his grandparents in what seems to be Russian, by the way her lips are moving. Surprisingly, his grandmother seems to be delighted by her. Even his grandpa is showing a smirk.

Peggy comes over and gives Steve and Bucky hugs, a wide grin on her face. “My boys are real college-educated grown ups now.” Then she adds with a pout, “Sorry I couldn’t make it to your graduation last week, Steve, I had finals.”

“I understand, Peggy. You’re here now, that’s what matters,” Steve replies charmingly.

“We should all have brunch at the diner!” Peggy says, glancing around the group.

Leo scoffs a little, then says, “I don’t think Lucky Leo’s has ever had a _brunch_ ,” he looks over at Bucky, “but I’ll make an exception for you, kid.”

That settles it. They all drive down to the diner, essentially their homebase, and Leo opens it just for them. A private event, just like Bucky’s high school graduation. They all help make root beer floats and fry eggs and bacon haphazardly on the flat top. Bucky and Natasha are still wearing their gowns, loose and unbuttoned, but Natasha has settled her cap onto Clint’s head. They’re sitting close together in a booth, Clint with his legs spread out on the seats. They might try to act casual, but they look at each other with pure love. Bucky doesn’t envy them, though, because he looks at Steve the same way.

He looks around at all the people he loves, all in the same room together. Leo and Peggy on the griddle, Carina talking to his grandparents, Clint and Natasha chatting with Sam, and all the friends he’s made here over the years.

And Steve, who has his arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulder as they lounge in a booth together. Steve Rogers, the best man he’s ever known, who looks at Bucky like he’s worth something, worth being loved so much by such a good guy. Bucky’s never felt like that before with anybody. He’s never felt this safe, or loved, or happy, or overwhelmingly scared that he could lose it all.

“Oh, hey,” Steve says as he reaches toward Bucky’s cap tassel, “You forgot to put your tassel on the left.”

Steve fixes it for him, and Bucky responds, “You’re a doll.”

“Anytime. Hey, are you free next Saturday?” Steve asks.

Bucky huffs a laugh. “I think I’m free for the rest of my life, now.”

“Good, because I have a piece in an art show then,” Steve says, looking like he’s holding back his pride.

“Steve, that’s great!” Bucky replies with a smile. “I guess I could carve some time out of my busy schedule to support an up and coming artist.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Just to let you know, I will not let you leave the apartment wearing a turtleneck or a beret.”

“But how will I fit in with your artist friends? I might still have time to grow a soul patch,” Bucky offers, breaking into a grin as he scratches his chin.

Leo sets down a stack of blueberry pancakes in front of them before Bucky can crack anymore jokes.

“Happy graduation, Buck,” Leo expresses. “I didn’t really get you a gift, but...”

“Leo, you’re giving me a whole diner. You’ve done more than enough for me over the years, I should be making you infinite pancakes,” Bucky tells him. Leo settles for a pat on his shoulder and a smile that says more than words ever could. Bucky gives Leo a grateful look back before he goes to sit by Carina.

Bucky starts to get a little misty-eyed at the realization of how much all of these people care about him, but he tries to evade notice by rubbing at his eyes casually. Steve sees, of course, but he doesn’t say anything. He just pours a generous amount of maple syrup over the pancakes.

Bucky takes a few bites, then notices Steve looking over at Clint and Natasha.

“I promise I’ll have a little more flair when I propose than Clint did,” Steve mentions, an offhand thought.

Bucky swallows a thick mouthful of pancake. “When you...?”

“I mean, not right now, but eventually. Hopefully,” Steve shrugs. He has an unreadable expression on his face.

Bucky settles a little closer into Steve’s side. “Well, I mean, I don’t want a spectacle or anything.”

“But not something too simple,” Steve adds.

“Somewhere public enough that we can make people jealous, but private enough that it’s still special,” Bucky says as he starts thinking of ideas.

“Should we set up a brainstorming session?” Steve suggests, a hint of banter in his tone.

Bucky presses a light kiss to Steve’s soft lips and says, “That would probably be best.”

They hear a glass clinking and look over at Leo with a Coca-Cola glass and a fork in his hands. Real classy.

He stops tapping the glass and clears his throat. “So, I’m not the best at giving speeches, but I figured I should give it a shot. It’s a special occasion and all.” He pauses for a moment. “I’ve known Bucky since he was fourteen. He came into my diner looking like a stray puppy, miserable as all hell. I gave him a hot meal and even offered to pay when he didn’t have any money on him. But he had some fight in him, he didn’t want any of my pity. I respected that, and I still respect that about him today. So I let him work, and he was good. He didn’t just take orders mindlessly, he had a spark in him. I could tell he actually liked working here. Now, that was eight years ago, and it looks like he’s done pretty good for himself since then. I don’t wanna get sappy or nothin’, but I’m real proud of you, kid. I know you’re gonna put as much care into this place as I have for the past thirty years. I’d wish you good luck, but I know you don’t need it.” He sets the glass down and nods for a moment as a dozen faces smile back at him.

Bucky gets up and gives him a tight hug, warranting an “aww” from their small audience. Leo pats him on the shoulder and gives him a small nod that means everything.

Bucky looks around at everyone again and figures it’s his turn to make a speech. “Thank you, Leo. Thanks to all of you, really. You don’t even realize how much you guys have helped me out over the years. Even in little ways, you guys have always supported and encouraged me. I hope I’ve done the same for you. I’ll keep it short...I just want you guys to know that I love all of you, you mean the world to me.”

Peggy is the first one to throw her arms around Bucky, sniffling slightly. Somehow, a group hug forms around him and all he can do is laugh and accept it.

As Bucky is literally surrounded by the people he loves, he feels that hint of fear that always latches onto his happiness.

He thinks to himself now, of course he could lose everything. That’s always a possibility. All of his friends could be taken over by pod people. Aliens could invade New York right now and wipe out the entire human race.

But those things are very unlikely, and he finally accepts that.

Life isn’t going to be easy, but the good things never are. It wasn’t easy to get where he is right now, but he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let any of it slip away, not if he has any say in it.

Bucky Barnes knows how to put up a fight, but he doesn’t have to do it alone. Not anymore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!! This fic was really fun to write and I hope you liked it!! Don't forget to read the epilogue :)


End file.
